Featured

No More Lies

So look straight into eyes Tell me the truth and not lies So now I understand…

~Brabo Gator

If the severity of a spanking matched my level of regret and remorse, this one would’ve left me sitting uncomfortably for at least a week!

After Adam said those dreaded words, you’re going to get a spanking, all I could do was hang my head. He shut off the shower water, stepped out, and then wrapped a towel around me, like he always does. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, and reached out for me. Knowing what was coming, I froze. I admitted, I knew I deserved it, but also told him I was scared. And, I was!

In my mind, I’d committed the worst crime imaginable. I’d broken the number one rule, between us. We don’t lie to each other. I envisioned a spanking more serious than any he’d ever given, before. What would that even be like? What if it makes me cry? Would he stay and hold me, after, like he always had? In those brief moments, all these thoughts played over, in my head.

The next thing I knew, he had me over his knees. My left arm was out in front of me, pinned between our bodies, but my right arm was still free. Instinctively, I reached back, to cover my exposed behind. Adam took my right hand in his left one, and held it against my back, removing my ability to continue making feeble attempts at preventing what was coming. As much as my body wanted to, I fought the urge to kick my legs, to try launching myself from his grip. Even though I’ve done tried all these things, before, and knew I was no match for his strong arms, deep down I also knew I needed to submit. After all, I damn well knew I’d done wrong, and this predicament was entirely my own doing. As his right arm raised, and I anticipated the first smack across my now perfectly positioned butt, I gripped Adam’s leg with my left hand, and the hand he was holding my other in. I realized my nails were beginning to dig into his skin, and found myself shouting out, I don’t want to scratch you! I sensed his raised hand relax, for a second, as he gently assured me that it was okay if I scratched him. He could handle it. I did my best, not to let my long nails scrape across him. I did end up managing to keep from giving him any accidental scratches or cuts from them, too.

I won’t pretend the whole thing was a pleasant experience, but ultimately, I had no issues sleeping or sitting comfortably, after. That spanking could’ve been SO much worse, and I’d have fully accepted I’d earned it. Instead, he chose to let me off pretty darned easy, considering what I’d done. He held me in his arms, kissed me, and begged me to trust him, when he tells me that he’ll love me no matter what. He’s not going anywhere, and that there’s nothing we can’t get through, together.

Later, as I reflected, it dawned on me that it actually has been the spankings I’ve most felt I deserved, that have been much less severe than I’d anticipated. On the other hand, the most severe ones have been for things I had vehemently argued I didn’t believe were warranted. Things I considered minimal, minor, petty, and sometimes even got angry at him for determining punishment was necessary in the first place. That’s when it clicked, for me. I nearly said out loud my collective thoughts “ohhhh”, with this realization! If I’m being bitchy, arguing with him over whether I believe I’ve done wrong, that’s a great big red flag. It signals, I’m not sorry, and I’ll do it again. It displays my lack of respect for him, or his boundaries. It tells him I’m not sorry. This is almost certainly, precisely the reason he’s chosen to make sure I’d come to regret whatever it was I’d done. Maybe, it’s not about the severity of my wrongs, but about the sincerity in my remorse. Of course, I’m aware that if I lie to him again, my apologies probably ain’t sparing me. At that point, I’d have already proven I wasn’t sorry enough not to do that again. But, for the most rare instances of lines crossed, he just wants to know that I’m taking it as seriously as he does. That I mean it, when I tell him, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

Note to future self…. Lose the attitude. Drop the arguments. Tell him you’re sorry, and try to mean it. You’ll most likely avoid getting your ego checked, with a bruised behind.

Featured

I Was Lying

I wish I could reconcile, cause deep inside I’m dying So I put on a smile, and I pretend I’m fine
I’m just another screw up, baby don’t waste your time I told you we’d be different, but we knew I was lying

~Burden

Ok, so not exactly as dramatic as these song lyrics, but I told Adam a lie.

I’m very good at circling truth, sometimes. Adam calls this, sidestepping. Sort of leading him to the conclusion I’m intending, but without explicitly ever speaking an untruth. One thing I just never did, was tell my husband a lie. I did that, last week. For the first time, in literally more than a decade, my lips spoke a blatant falsehood, to him. When the subject was first mentioned, I didn’t lie. I sidestepped, no doubt, but I allowed him to conclude a lie, based on my statement of facts.

To further explain, we have to go back in time, to around two weeks ago. We were about to make our trip to Knoxville. I was busy, the day we were leaving. I’d run errands, got us all packed up, and made a couple tedious phone calls that needed to be taken care of. There was one more thing, Adam expected me to have gotten done, that day, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Fast forward, to Monday. Laying in bed, Monday night, I suddenly remembered what it was I’d forgotten to do, on Friday. It was late. I told myself I’d do it first thing, the next morning. Unfortunately, Tuesday came and went. I had not, in fact, remembered to do so. It wasn’t until that Wednesday morning, I’d finally taken care of it. I hadn’t mentioned any of this, to Adam. If I’m honest, I don’t think I planned to. Except, the very next evening, he specifically asked me if I’d gotten that done. What I said to him was, that I’d actually forgotten, on Friday. I told him, I remembered, on Monday. As predicted, my response was satisfactory…until a few more days passed. It’d come up, once again. Only, he was asking me to clarify that I’d handled it on Monday. I tried to dance around the truth, and asked him, Don’t you remember, we talked about this the other day? I told you I’d forgot on Friday, but remembered it on Monday. Had he drawn the same conclusion he had previously, I’d be guilty of simply sidestepping the truth, again. That’s not what happened, though. He came out, and asked me to verify for him that I’d gotten it done, on Monday. In that split second, I made the choice to lie. I told him, YES. I lied to myself, too. I wanted to believe it was just a harmless fib. I nearly fooled my own conscience, but not for long. The harder I tried to push down the guilt that bubbled up, the sicker I began to feel. I simply could not ignore it.

I spent more than a day, wrestling with my own guilty conscience. My stomach was in knots. I knew what I was going to have to do, as much as I hated to have to admit to Adam the stupid lie I’d told him, and for a stupid ass reason. I felt, at the time, that confessing my absentmindedness had gone on for more than just one business day, would seem much more irresponsible. Instead, what I wound up doing was making multiple irresponsible decisions, in my effort to conceal an insignificant mistake.

I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t hide the truth from Adam for one more day. I vowed to come clean, about all of it, that evening. Which was just last night.

I’d been more quiet than usual, while we showered. Adam was noticing this. We’d finished showering, and I began to wring out my hair. He reached for the faucet, and asked me if I was all done. The tiny pause before I replied with a weak, yes, removed all remaining doubt in his mind. Something was up. He looked at me, and asked if I was sure. I looked down. That’s when he asked me what it was I needed to tell him. I fought the urge to lie, again, and insist there was nothing wrong. I was downright disgusted, with myself. The shame and embarrassment made me want to hide. I wasn’t going to allow myself to evade accountability, though.

I laid it all out. Like one very long, run on sentence, the truth poured out of me. I watched his face, as my words landed in his ears, expecting to see the same disgust I had over what I’d done reflected back to me in his eyes. His expression was soft, though. He looked down at me, listening to every single word I was saying. I made no excuses, for myself. I made no efforts to lay any part of the blame on him. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong. When I’d finished my tearful confession, I looked back into his eyes, and told him how sorry I was. I meant it, too. I can’t remember feeling more sorry.

His hands clasped my face, as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The first words out of his mouth were, I love you. He insisted, I have to stop thinking I have to be perfect. There’s nothing I can say or do, to push him away. He reminded me of how much we’ve been through, and that he’s not going anywhere. He told me he appreciated that I’d come clean, and that I apologized. He said he probably never would’ve found out, and although it did hurt that I’d lied to him, he was glad my lie had made me uncomfortable enough to admit it. He acknowledged that he understood that wasn’t easy to do, told me thank you, and then informed me I was getting a spanking.

To be continued…

Featured

Sin So Sweet

Hang up your wings, crawl into me
Cover me up under your sheets
Roll back your eyes, sink in your teeth
Show me that side that nobody sees
I’m addicted to you, you’re addicted to me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet
I’m using you, you’re using me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet

~Warren Zeiders

On a very different note from the one I last left off on, is something else that’s been on my mind. I can think of a few instances, over the last 6 months or so, when the “old Adam” absolutely would’ve lit the “old me’s” butt on fire. There’s no question that, when he found out I’d continued to keep things from him, I would never have avoided some serious accountability. Especially for repeating my habit of finding excuses to procrastinate, about coming to him, with things I know damn well I shouldn’t try to hide from him. A month or two ago, I confessed more than one thing I’d been keeping secret. One of those things, for nearly two months. Adam never raises his voice, or says hateful things to me, when I go to him. Even on the occasions when I haven’t approached him, and he’s discovered something I’d screwed up, he’s never been mean, no matter how upset he was. However, it is rather unusual for there to be no repercussions.

I’m not running around attempting to find ways to fuck around, or to find out. I hate to disappoint my husband, and never intentionally hurt him. My mistakes are not major ones. It’s small things, like not doing something I needed to. Or, doing something that I one thousand percent know isn’t a good idea. I’m a great big procrastinator. I get distracted, easily. I often “bite off a whole lot more than I can actually chew.” While those things can and have been the circumstances that’ve lead to a trip across Adam’s knees, they’re relatively minor “infractions”. One thing that’s always been unacceptable, is lying to him. That includes not telling him things that he has every right to know. It’s just lying by omission. Unfortunately, that’s something I’m way too good at doing. I am like a professional, when it comes to avoiding the truth, without telling a lie.

In spite of all of my “transgressions”, Adam has chosen leniency. I asked him why, recently. He told me, “Because I want you to always feel like you can come to me.” He further explained his concern over what it is that he needs to do better, so that I won’t be afraid to go to him, about anything. It’s super important to him, that he does a good job of making sure I know how much he loves me. That I can trust him, and that he always makes me feel safe. He prioritizes my own health, wealth, and happiness, well before his own. I know these things, yet I still struggle with fears that his patience and love just won’t be enough to cover me, when I screw up. So, I make weak excuses to put off bringing things up. I tell myself, he’s tired. Maybe tomorrow. Then, tomorrow brings another reason to decide it’s not the day to risk outing myself. Before I know it, weeks will go by, and I still haven’t come clean. Tension builds, because I find myself distancing from him. Not on purpose, or even consciously. It’s as if even the smallest issue is like a weed in our garden, and each missed opportunity to be honest and pluck it out, allows it to grow and multiply. Before I know it, they’ve spread into every corner. I get overwhelmed, and either lash out or shut down. I recognize how unhealthy and damaging this all can be, and I really do want to stop letting weeds into our garden.

If I’m completely honest with myself, I’m not entirely certain that I’m not manipulating my own husband. I don’t mean that I think I’m doing it in a malicious way. On some level, though, I think maybe I deploy certain specific tactics, when I’m looking to escape accountability. Scratch that. I absolutely do, do those things. There’s really no maybe about it. I look for the most prime opportunity, and I carefully choose the way I explain myself, working to effectively minimize my responsibility over my actions. I’m pretty sure that’s a precise example of manipulation.

More than virtually anything else, I truly want to be good. A good person. A good example. A good wife, mama, daughter, sister, friend. I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of, and I’m sure there’ll be more. I never take pleasure in someone else’s pain, and unequivocally don’t ever seek to be the cause of it. I genuinely don’t even hope for harm or hurt to come to the man who raped me. Let alone others, who’ve done things I have, am, or will have to heal from. I pray for their healing. For their souls. That they come to repentance for their sins, and that they’re made new. I really mean that.

I’m far from perfect. Blatantly flawed. I reek of sin. We don’t get any do-overs, in this life. We can’t unmake our mistakes. All we can do, is our best to do better. Apologies help, but they’re also just words. What matters is action. Taking steps forward. Striving to be a better person than I was, yesterday, and to become even better through everyday that follows.

Writing about all of this has made me realize something I hadn’t, until just now. If I were truly worried that my husband wouldn’t still love me, because of something I’ve said or done, and that was my reason for attempting to hide from him…how could I be so confident in my ability to manipulate his love for me, just to get out of a measly spanking? Clearly, I’ve been assured that his love for me far outweighs any of the things I might do to disregard rules and boundaries. I honestly hadn’t thought of that, before. I’m not sure how I managed it, but I’ve snagged myself a husband who’d hang the moon for me. And, we’ve got a rock solid foundation. One that, deep down, I know that I’m positive couldn’t crumble under the weight of all my past, present, or future wrongs. We get a heck of a lot more right, than we do wrong. I can’t begin to imagine a life without my husband. The perfect marriage is just two imperfect people, who refuse to give up on each other. So, right there’s one thing we’ve both been doing, perfectly.

Crossing A Line

~Mike Shinoda

It’s been a hectic day. Emma, the baby, isn’t feeling well. She just wanted to cuddle and sleep, all day. After the littles left, I had so much to get done! I did laundry, swept and vacuumed the floors, and got our supper cooked. I’ve got all our supper dishes cleaned, and lunches made for Adam and our kids, for tomorrow. Now I’m taking a break, downstairs. I made myself some white chocolate hot cocoa. It’s delicious! I only ever buy that stuff around Christmas time. It’s special, this way. Adam and Justin went to the gym. It’s Adam’s “break time” now, too. In a little bit, we’ll go take our shower, and get ready to go to bed, so we can do it all again tomorrow. I thought this might be a rough Monday, after the long weekend, but I didn’t feel too bad. I wasn’t exceptionally tired or anything. Which I’m grateful about.

Last night, when Adam and I were getting undressed for our shower, I found myself in a little trouble. He was teasing me, about something. I made a gesture that’s hard to explain in words, but one that’s understood by our generation, as I told him to suck it. He picked me up, propped his foot on the toilet lid, and bent me over his knee. I got a handful of moderately hard smacks, but it wasn’t awful. I think Adam was questioning his choice not to give me a harder spanking. While we showered, he mentioned that he thought maybe he needs to remind me what that feels like. He thinks I’m getting a little too arrogant about “dancing on the line”. I protested, of course. I asked him, “Why do you think I haven’t done anything stupid?” I answered my own question, “Because I know the kind of spanking I’ll get, and I don’t want it!” He conceded. I received no further smacks across my behind. However, I have a feeling I need to make sure to stay well inside the “lines”, for awhile at least. I suspect I’ll end up with a very sore butt, if I say or do anything that would be considered disrespectful.

I’m going to finish listening to the Joe Rogan podcast I’ve got playing, while I do a little crafting. Then I’ll go get naked with my husband, while we shower. After that, I’ll tuck our kids into bed, and go get naked with him again, in our bed.

I Love You Forever

Last night was a rough one. Adam came home, and he wasn’t in a bad mood. I’d told him a couple pretty minor things, just because I wanted to know we had a “clean slate”, and I wasn’t keeping anything from him. It was seriously nothing big at all. He wanted to go in “the office”, to “discuss” this. Whatever…I went with it. When he put me over our bed, lifted my sundress, and then pulled my panties down, I got angry. I squirmed and protested. I don’t know what the fuck I wanted. I didn’t want a spanking, because I didn’t feel I’d done anything deserving of that. However, he and I both know, if he had let it go, I’d have taken that a certain type of way. Adam’s been real big on boundaries, lately. I haven’t been able to make him “bend”. I think there’s this internal fight I’m having. I want, hell I need him to be consistent. If he flip flops on rules or boundaries, I don’t respect them the way I do when he’s consistent. The other voice inside me screams, because she’s losing her power. I got frustrated, that all my best efforts couldn’t sway him. Like, dammit…I don’t want to be able to “win”, but yet I’m desperately fighting for power, at the same time. It’s a difficult thing to explain in words.

Adam never wants to be unfair, harsh, or especially, to hurt me. I love him for that. While I didn’t want him to spank me at all, the fact that it was sort of playful and in no way memorable, only added to my frustrations. Why did we have to go through “all of this”, when he clearly didn’t feel it was a big deal either? I felt like he pretended to care about things that he claimed mattered, but didn’t really. Anger and frustration absolutely boiled over inside me. I refused to give Adam any “yes sir”, in response to his questions, when he let me up. I laid on our bed, and stared through him. I gave him no words, whatsoever. He left me in our room. A few minutes later, he returned. He tried to talk to me again, but I continued to simply glare at him. I also blatantly rolled my eyes at him. Finally, I could see his own frustration had reached its max. He walked out, once more. I stayed awhile longer. Then, I went into our bathroom and threw my hair into a high ponytail. It was a mess, after all that had just occurred. I went out to the kitchen, and cooked our supper.

The following few hours, Adam and I barely spoke, except through text messages. I tried to tell him what I was feeling and thinking, but I don’t think I could have processed all of this yet, either. I wasn’t quite sure why I was feeling or acting this way. I didn’t understand much of my own reaction. I didn’t want to “win”. I have periodically had this thought bubble up, if I hold my ground long enough, not even Adam can help me. I haven’t ever made a conscious choice to do it, and I never planned it to happen, but it did. I was disappointed in myself, for my actions. I was also disappointed that Adam seemed to have just given up. I was sad. I was mad, I was confused. I was conflicted. I searched for words, to give clarity to both Adam and myself. I struggled to find them, though. He was upset with me, but I was upset too. I was really hurting. It was such a lonely and miserable feeling, believing I’d convinced my husband not to try anymore.

The truth was, he hadn’t “given up”. He’d given me time to think, and to cool off. He’d given himself time to do the same. I’d gone into our bathroom, to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me so upset. Adam and I continued our “text war”. He was in the living room. I sent one particular text to him, where I said, “You can’t handle it if I push back on you? That gives me lots of confidence.” I heard him get up, and heavy footsteps neared our bathroom. The door flew open. He went into our closet, and emerged holding his belt. He sat in front of me, silently daring me to keep pushing him. I wasn’t ready to back all the way down, yet. I softened my tone, and my words, but I ignored the threat he wielded in his hands. He turned on the shower, sat the belt down, undressed, and got in. I followed him in. Our naked shower talks are always the most raw and honest ones. There’s just something about being naked together, with nowhere to hide, that brings all the truths out.

Adam told me I’d put him in an impossible position. He knew, if he let this go, I would repeat what I’d done. He told me, if he let it go, I’d have essentially “cut off his balls”. I don’t ever want Adam to want to hurt me. I don’t like pissing him off. I don’t enjoy getting spanked. What I do want, is to know when he actually freaking means it. I need to believe him. A playful slap on my butt is fine! It’s all in fun. Going through all the trouble to appear serious, and then telling me he’s not really, with a couple little smacks, that frustrates the hell out of me. He wants me to know the difference between when he means it, and when he’s just messing with me. I want to understand, too! In my mind, he was either not serious, when he brought me into “the office”, or he was afraid of me. My protests had weakened his resolve. I could convince him to do whatever I wanted. I truly can convince Adam to do most anything for me, but I don’t want my bitchy, stubborn, arrogance to be one of the ways I’m able to do that. I want to persuade him through careful, thoughtful, respectful words and actions. Despite this awareness I have, I get mad sometimes, and I try him. I try my very worst “tools”, to get what I think I want. Even though, soon, I recognize that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I didn’t want it to work. I want to know that if I push against my “rock”, he won’t budge. I also want to get to a place where I won’t, can’t, or don’t push him anymore.

After an hour in the shower, talking through this mess we’d made, calmer heads prevailed. Adam ended up giving me the very worst spanking I’ve ever gotten.

I’d just stepped out, from the shower. Adam handed me a towel. He said something about needing to “get this over with”. I didn’t get a chance to respond. I hadn’t even gotten my towel wrapped around my body yet. I clumsily attempted to cover my backside with my towel, but he was quicker than me. He sat on the side of our bathtub, pulled me over his knees, and brought his hand down hard and fast. He covered my entire behind with many repeated swats. I was crying out like I’ve never done before. “Owwwwwie!” “Pleeeease” and “NOOO”! When he finally let go of me, I sank down to the floor. I still held my towel in my hands. I covered my face with it, wiping away tears. Adam gave me a minute there, before he reached out his hand for me to grab ahold of. I looked up at him, and hesitated a moment, before taking his hand. He pulled me up. We got ready for bed. It was late. The kids had been in bed for two hours already. When I walked to our bed, Adam was waiting for me. He held the blanket up, for me to climb in next to him. I put my arms around him, for the first time all day, and laid my head on his chest.

He was still home when I got up, this morning. As I stood in the kitchen, loading my Keurig coffee machine with some much needed caffeine drink, he came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head. Then, he gave me his sideways grin, and asked me how I slept. I declined to answer, and instead responded with a sigh and a shoulder shrug. I texted him, awhile ago. I apologized for last nights awful mess. He’d claimed I “lied” to him, because when he told me he was going to spank me, I asked him “what’d I do?” We both knew full well why it was gonna happen, but I guess I just wanted to hear him tell me. He continued to insist that I lied to him, pretending not to know why, and that had made the spanking worse. I still think it would’ve been the exact same experience on my behind, regardless of this “so called ‘lie’”…

Fun & Sun

I’ve got my mantle decorated for summer, now! I love it 😊

Last night was a lot of fun, with Justin and Jackie. We played cornhole, out back. I checked on our baby birds. The birds make nests up under our deck, and I insist on making sure there’s no eggs or babies in them, before Adam removes them. There was one I’d found babies in, so we’re having fun watching them grow.

My son, Wyatt, was sick with a stomach bug. Yesterday, he had a horrible headache, and then started throwing up. My niece, Pj, also came down with this. Today, Wyatt and Pj are feeling better, but my sister is currently sick with this crud, now. So far, nobody else at our house has gotten this. I’m praying it stays that way!

Adam went into work, for a few hours. He said he’ll be coming home around noon. We’re planning to grill some chicken, this evening, and have Justin and Jackie over. We’d hoped to play more cornhole, and hang out outside, but it’s dreary and cloudy. It’s only mid 60’s out, too. If we can’t be outside, I’m sure we’ll find fun inside. Mj is going to help me make some brownies, and the pasta salad I’m fixing for tonight, with supper. We had a quiet Saturday morning, at our house.

Last night, we came inside around 11:00pm, since Adam had to get up and go into work. I was being silly. My dad taught me “pig Latin”, when I was a little kid. We used to talk to each other, like that, a lot. I’ve been saying things in pig Latin, to be a smart ass. I said “eye roll”, in pig Latin, and giggled. I didn’t actually roll my eyes. We were brushing our teeth, and Adam was annoyed. He reached over, and gave me a smack on my behind. I protested. I argued that saying “eye roll”, is not the same as doing it! Adam disagrees. For whatever reason, I’d decided this was a hill I was going to “die on”. A battle I refused to lose. I was not going to retreat from this. I said “eye roll” several times. Each time, Adam spanked me. I wouldn’t give in, though. Then, he put me over our bed, and spanked me hard. He said I was trying to get around his rules, and being disrespectful. After, he climbed into bed, and pulled me close to him. I started to cry. I told him I was just messing around! I was irritated, that he was punishing me for, what I felt was teasing. He never raised his voice, but he wouldn’t let me argue, either. Adam says it’s disrespectful. He says there’s lots of ways I can tease him, without doing or saying disrespectful things. This morning, I can see his point. Although, it’s not that easy to accept. I don’t feel that I’m doing anything wrong. He does. My sore behind, means he wins…

We’re grilling, and spending the evening outside. Justin and Jackie are here. I’m determined to have another fun evening, without a repeat of last night’s ending. Other than that, it’s been a real good weekend!

Broken Window Serenade

A couple of pretty flowers
Is what I brought to you
I saw you through a broken window
With a different point of view

You had signs of depression
From a long line of sin
And your face tells a story
Bout the places you have been
I loved you so
I thought you should know

And you feed your addiction
With your crystal meth
And I plead for your life
As it takes you to your death

You make your deal with the devil
As your looks begin to fade
I saw you laughin through the tears
As you slowly slipped away
I watched you go
I thought you should know
Yeah I watched you go
I thought you should know

A couple of pretty flowers is what I brought to you
I saw you through a broken window
With a different point of view…

~Whiskey Myers

Sometimes, the lyrics in a good song do a better job of saying what I’m feeling, than I could. Besides my mother, I’ve watched as several old friends lost everything to addiction. I have also seen more than one friend beat their addiction. You can’t begin to heal your addiction, until you acknowledge it, though. This is why I’m confident my mother won’t. While I wish that could be her story, one that I might even be able to write in again, I very much doubt it. Unfortunately, she’s just too far gone. This is why I’ve wished she’d died, instead of “lived” like this. I can’t put into words how difficult it is to lose a parent. To lose them, but they’re still here. To “lose” her, because she left me. I mean, maybe she never really was with me, anyway? I had such high hopes for us, though. Naive? Ignorant? Selfish? Maybe. But, I had so hoped we’d have a healthy relationship after she’d straightened up, years ago. She never apologized for my childhood. I forgave her, anyway. I did it, because she’d begun to show up for me. I truly believed I mattered, for awhile. I long for that feeling. Being assured that I’m loved. I’m enough. That she might even think I’m great. To know that my mom is proud of me.

If she ever did care, she definitely doesn’t anymore. I’m not sure I can do a good job explaining this, but I’m going to try. While she was here, in my city, I’d worried that she’d try to come to my house. I’d spent those days on edge. Once she was gone, back to where she lives now, I didn’t feel relief. Instead of taking that deep breath, celebrating that stress coming to an end, I felt sad. It hurt me. As much as I didn’t want to have my psychotic, screwed up mother show up at my door, I was deflated when she didn’t. She didn’t even try. She didn’t want to see me. I don’t know how many times I have to be told, I don’t give a shit about you, until I’ll be able to accept that she doesn’t. Logically, I get it. There’s still this little girl inside me, who’s pleading for her mama to want her. I simply cannot rationalize how a mother could do this to her child. I would fight until my last breath, for my babies. I wish I had a mama willing to fight for me…

Thankfully, what I do have, is some amazing people who are here for me. While it’s impossible to replace the missing piece my mother has taken, my life is very full. I’m blessed with a whole lot of love and support. We had a great evening, with Justin and Jackie. We sat out on the deck, enjoying the beautiful weather, and a couple drinks. Adam was running a little late, so I’d offered to go ahead and start the bacon, for our BLT’s. This was his response,

He cooked the bacon, when he got home, and our supper was delicious. Justin and Jackie left around 9:00pm, and then Adam and I went to take our shower. I was in a silly mood. I’m also PMS’ing. I can get a little bitchy, quickly. I didn’t intend to be quite so difficult, but I kinda was. I challenged him on literally everything he said to me. I did this gesture, where you take your thumb to your mouth and flick upward. “I bite my thumb at you” kind of thing. Adam didn’t know what that meant, so I started laughing. This is the point where he had had enough. I could see it immediately. He knew I’d done something offensive, but not exactly what. He wanted me to explain, but I didn’t particularly want to do that, at this point. He was getting angry with me, so I told him. It’s pretty much a different way to flip someone off. I also mentioned that I wished I hadn’t shown him, or told him what it means, so that I could’ve used that the next time he annoys me. I was a little bit arrogant, in the way I talked to him. He noticed. He informed me I’d crossed the line, and he’d had enough. Even then, I wasn’t exactly willing to humble myself, yet. The stubborn in me was taking over. I’d started out only intending to make Adam laugh. Instead, I’d insulted and disrespected him. I know I recognized this, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. I pushed back pretty hard, continuing to allow every single thought I had escape my lips. Adam got very quiet.

When we got out of the shower, Adam handed me the towel I wrap around my hair, and then wrapped a big towel around my body, like he always does. I continued to have an attitude, while we dried off and got our night clothes on. Albeit, a much less intensely disrespectful one. He gave me his sideways grin, and told me I’d find out what he thought in a little bit. He said I wasn’t going to sleep very comfortably, tonight (last night). I glared at him, and told him I had much more fun plans for him. I said I wouldn’t be in any mood for it (sex), if he busted my butt. He said it was a sacrifice he was willing to make, for the greater good. Then, he walked over to me, and spanked me hard and fast, at least 10-15 times. I dropped to the floor, after he released me. I looked up at him and asked him, “Are you done now?!” He walked toward me, with his hand held out for me to grab hold of, so he could help me up from the floor. As he pulled me upright, he told me, “Not even close.” This was when I knew, for certain, he was serious.

We tucked the kids into their beds, and brushed our teeth. I took my sweet time applying lotion to my arms and legs. I put all my face products on. I walked over to my nightstand, by the bed, and put on my lip mask moisturizer that I use every night. Adam was laying in bed. I climbed in, next to him. He put his arm under me, and pulled me closer to him. I thought, for a second, maybe he won’t spank me anymore tonight, now? That thought was barely finished, when he interrupted, asking if I was ready. I gave him a pitiful look, as to silently try and prevent what was coming. In one quick motion, he had flipped me onto my belly. He pulled the t-shirt I was wearing up, my panties down, and spanked me as hard and fast as he had done earlier. I tried to wiggle away, but he had me pinned down good, this time. Just as I was about to cry out, he stopped. I was so relieved it was over, or so I thought. He lectured me, in his stern “dad” voice. That’s what the kids call it, when he’s stern like that. I didn’t hesitate to give him the responses he was looking for, after each question asked. I hoped maybe he would let me up, if I stopped trying to challenge him. It didn’t work. He gave me another painful round of smacks on my backside. This one was even worse than the others had been. I cried, “owwwwwieee”. I know that’s a super childish thing to say, but it’s what often comes flying from my mouth, when something really hurts. That, and “golly”, when I’m frustrated, but don’t want to curse. Finally, Adam released me from his grip. He laid back down. I rolled over and sunk my head into his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, once more, and we went to sleep. Indeed, I did sleep fitfully. Lots of tossing and turning, through last night. At one point, my sleep was interrupted, when Adam patted my butt. It was just one “love tap”, but I immediately cried “OWIEE”. That light little smack actually did hurt, too. Woke me right up from my sleep. He let out a quiet giggle. I refused to say anything more. He just pulled me closer to him, and we went back to sleep.

I need to apologize for my behavior, last night. I need to let him know I am sorry. The dawn of a new day, often shines a different perspective on a situation. I’m clearly seeing how crappy I was treating him, in the shower. I was a bratty, mouthy, cocky wife. Not my best moment. Definitely not how I want to be toward my husband. Submitting isn’t always natural and easy. Sometimes, it’s hard. Even when it’s something I want to do, the temptation to buck against it remains an issue for me, every so often.

A Brand New Day

Adam told me that he’d been very angry, on Tuesday evening, but he wanted to give me some time. He wanted to know if I would be sorry. He wanted to see if I would be sorry for what I’d done to him, or sorry for myself. Would I recognize how disrespectful I’d been, and would I apologize? I did all of those things, yesterday. It surprised me to know that was how he felt. I guess, I thought he would’ve done something right away, if he’d been upset. He said that he didn’t think I would react well to having him call me out, while I was so angry and frustrated myself. He also told me, now that he knows I recognize how disrespectful I can be, he will not hesitate to address it, immediately. He pointed out a couple of times I’ve spoken disrespectfully to, or about, him, recently. I hadn’t even caught that! It wasn’t blatant, nasty, hateful things I’d said. I had called him a “pushover”, at my Dad’s house, the last time we were over there for a guitar night. I’d made comments that belittled him, and I wasn’t thinking about how wrong that was. Adam said, he lets too many things like that go, without confronting me about them. He isn’t going to do that, anymore.

Jackie brought a 12 pack of beer in, when she got home from work. I’d been texting her about what was going on, with Adam and me. We each sat in the kitchen and drank one. I had made a casserole that was ready to go into the oven, as soon as Adam got home. It only needed 20-30 minutes to bake. I was watching our front door camera, waiting to see Adam’s truck go past. I’d just finished my beer, when it happened. He was pulling in the driveway, as I threw my empty beer can away. I quickly grabbed one more from the fridge. I chugged that thing so fast, it was gone before he walked into the kitchen! I was so nervous.

Adam had gone into our bedroom, before he came into the kitchen, to say hello. I suspected what he was doing…Taking a belt from our closet and setting it out. He looked so sexy, when he strode in to greet Jackie and I. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his big, strong as hell forearms. Jackie started to talk to him about all kinds of random crap. I knew she was stalling for me. Adam didn’t seem to be in a bad mood. He was smiling and chatting, like normal. Finally, he turned to me and asked me how long til supper? I explained, I just needed to throw the casserole in the oven. He said “Perfect. Let’s go step into my office.” I really did intend to go with him, willingly. I knew I deserved whatever was coming to me. For some reason, I couldn’t make my feet move, though. He didn’t wait for me to move them. He picked me up and carried me into our bedroom. The dogs had followed, and as he was shooing them out the door, I started to walk towards the door, too. I was only playing. I always try to bring, even the tiniest bit of humor, into tough moments. Adam grinned, grabbed onto my arm, and said, “Nuh-uh, Eve”.

As I’d suspected, he had a belt laid out on our bed. He bent me over our bed. I immediately flipped over, onto my back. I looked up at him. I had tears welling up, in my eyes. I told him, “Adam, I’m scared.” I do not use that phrase, often. I don’t abuse it. I never say it to take advantage of my husband’s love for me. He knows that. He pulled me up, hugging me close. I pressed my face into his chest and started bawling. He smelled so good. This was what I’d wished for, all day. Adam’s “gentle” hands. He put his hand under my chin, and lifted my face so I was looking him in his eyes. His expression was kind. He said, “Baby, you know this has to happen. I need you to understand, this is serious. I love you so much, even when I’m very angry with you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Let’s get this over with.” He laid me back down, on our bed. He left my jeans on, and put his left hand on my back, to keep me still. He spanked me with the belt, I don’t know, at least 6 times. Then, he sat down next to me. He talked about all of the things I wrote about, at the beginning of this post. I said a lot of yes, sir and no, sir’s. I was not expecting what happened next! He pulled me over his lap, pulled my jeans and panties down, and spanked me with his hand, hard. It hurt so much worse than the belt had. After, I’d guess, a dozen of those, he was finished. I was a mess of tears, and my nose was running. My hair had been in a ponytail. It was now loosely hanging on one side of my head, with hair stuck to my face. Adam wiped my hair from my face. He stood there, just staring into my eyes. I was sobbing, and breathing like I’d just sprinted a couple miles. I looked back into his eyes. My breaths slowed. We stayed like that for, what felt like, a long time. Finally, he spoke. “Just know, this is what happens, the next time you disrespect me like that.” I replied, “Yes, sir.”

When we emerged from “the office” (our bedroom, but Adam calls it that, when I’m in trouble), Jackie had turned up the music I’d had playing, in the kitchen. She’d also preheated the oven, and then put my casserole in. It was almost finished. This tells me, we were in there for 45 minutes, or so. It’s hard to have a concept of time, when we’re in there because I’m being spanked. Jackie didn’t ask me any questions. We went on with our evening. I’m sure we’ll talk, later today. She could tell that I wasn’t ready for a conversation about how it went. I’m sure it was obvious in the way I must’ve looked, too.

This morning, I drove our son to a local event center, for a “construction contest” he’s doing. I’ll have to go back to pick him up, this afternoon. He was real excited. It was COLD, outside. My heated seats don’t feel very good on a freshly spanked bottom, though. Adam and I are good. There’s no anger or animosity. It’s a new day. This is my favorite thing about the way our marriage works. I screw up. I get lectured and punished. It’s over.